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The Fairy Tale 






LinLE JOLLIBY’S CHRISTMAS 


" y 

HARRIET A. CHEEVER 


Author of ** Little Miss Boston," ''Jacky Leef ‘*St. Rock-wells' 
Little Brother" 



; 


BOSTOTTaKD CHICAGO 


(Congregational SunfiagsScljool antJ ^u&Itsljing ^ocietg 




Copyright, 1895 

By Congregational Sunday-School and Publishing Society 


CONTENTS 


rHAPTER PAGE 

I ■ . 5 

II II 

III 22 

IV . 37 

V .52 


VI 


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LITTLE JOLLIBY’S CHRISTMAS. 


CHAPTER I. 

QUEER name for such a little forlornity ; 



^ but then — he was a queer little object 
every way. Misshapen, it would seem, at every 
curve and angle of his diminutive little frame ; 
homeless except for the shelter of a charitable 
institution ; friendless save for the general 
kindliness shared at the “Home for Friendless 
Children,” Little Jolliby was yet to be envied 
when only his inward self was considered. 

How he came by his name no one knew. It 
was the only one he called himself by, the only 
one by which he was ever known. 

Whence came the unique spirit dwelling 
within the child ? Who wise enough to tell ? 
He was but seven years old when the sickly 
woman he called “ mammy ” slipped off into 
the warmth and sunshine of heaven, leaving 


6 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

her frail boy alone in the world. For two years 
previous to this, Little Jolliby might be said to 
have taken care of himself. His poor mother 
would doubtless have taught him many useful 
things had she been able, but she was not. 
Perched at the foot of her pallet of straw, the 
child would open wide his dewy eyes, while with 
failing strength the woman, whose nature was a 
religious one, would try to give her boy some 
Idea of the heaven for which she was bound, 
but concerning which she knew so little herself- 
Just around the corner from the miserable 
street where they stayed the last two years of 
his mother’s life was a mission chapel ; and, 
droll and pathetic as it may appear, there was 
no more constant attendant by day or by night 
at services of all descriptions held at the mis- 
sion than dwarfed Little Jolliby. Sunday-school 
was his pet meeting of all ; and his teacher, a 
breezy young girl from higher walks in life, with 
more of the Christ in her than she was aware 
of, and who thought it immense fun to have a 
class of little beggars, taught him to read. 
Christly } Entirely so ; opening to the child of 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 7 

want and necessity a resource that was to help 
his little soul straight into heaven. 

One Christmas day, the last of Little Jolliby’s 
appearance at the mission, as he soon after 
entered the Home, she gave him a delectable 
book of fairy tales. It had been a dear delight 
to her own childish heart, and in her fresh, 
springlike nature she generously wished to 
pass on to this hungry-eyed child what had 
been so cherished a possession of her own more 
favored childhood. 

For Little Jolliby this precious volume had 
but one fault : there was not half enough of it. 
Yet one unaccountable trait pertaining to this 
stunted boy was his elastic imagination. Out- 
side aids had been but few and far between. 
There was just one brief, never-to-be-forgotten 
visit spent with other fresh-air children in the 
country and on a picturesque old farm, and 
every shadow of advantage or opportunity ever 
enjoyed by this child multiplied itself until 
literally seven times seven. 

Small, gaunt, hunchbacked, the solitary gift 
of beauty pertaining to the cheery waif was his 


8 Little Jolliby s C/irishnas. 

eyes. Cheery.? Yes, more than cheery. His 
serene little face was like a whole chapter on 
content and the blithesome peace of God. 
And his eyes ! He asked questions with them, 
returned thanks with them, cried unshed tears 
from their luminous violet depths, told portions 
of his stories with them. Told stories .? Surely ; 
that was of all others his greatest forte. 

The subtle talent inherent in the boy’s active 
brain made him equal at times to a veritable 
and valuable nurserymaid in the noisy play- 
room of the Home. It quieted and for the 
time being satisfied his own vague longings. It 
gave tangible and stimulating shape to the airy 
nothings of his vivid dreams. It bore him off 
and away, beyond all experiences of his narrow 
little life, gave birth to fantasies that became 
so real to his quaint and curious audiences they 
stirred neither hand nor foot during the charmed 
recitals. These imaginings became so real to 
Little Jolliby himself that he lived a kind of 
dual life, the more enjoyable and intense one 
becoming the realm of sweet fancies which were 
like elixir to his easily contented little soul. 


Little Jolliby 5 Christmas. 9 

“ The boy has an angel in him somewhere,” 
remarked Sister Margaret to the matron one 
day. 

“ I can easily believe he has a legion of angels 
hidden within him when he gets started on his 
stories,” the matron replied. 

He dealt in fairy lore. Following naturally 
the bent given his strong imagination from his 
priceless Christmas gift, the intoxicating fancies 
grew and expanded to lengths not to be wholly 
reproduced in attempted repetition. Unrealized 
it might be, there was an undercurrent of ster- 
ling worth to his airiest flights. And giving felt 
depth and meaning to nearly every story he 
told was a central character and charm running 
like a golden thread through and away beyond 
each fairy scene. It was some conception of 
the Christ — far away and but dimly defined, 
yet growing more distinct with each passing 
day. Not a figure that was seen — more an 
influence or impelling spirit ; yet the Christ 
— a Christ of his own ideal, pictured midst 
glowing imagery of his own fanciful conjuring. 

Heaven, like fairyland, was a place of de- 


10 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


lightsome sound, yet more real and always close 
by. True there was an unexplained blending of 
fairy forms mixed with his angels. His winged 
cupids were partially celestial beings. The 
thousand and one beguiling creatures and 
equally beguiling influences wafted through 
fairy surroundings were all angelic in a way, 
coming from and controlled by some great, 
lovable Spirit in a vast and unseen beyond. 

His captivating little spirits of the air used 
the pretty things of earth, ministering fondly 
in a mysterious way to poor little boys and 
girls, and were right before his eyes when he 
was portraying them, and grew all but visible 
to the motley little crew reveling in his soberly 
told tales. The actually unknown fascination 
to them of woods and green fields, of meadowis 
and wide stretches of blue sky, were recalled 
and garnished with all the glamor of glowing 
description ; and as the glories grew and grew 
the eyes of the credulous children softened, 
their features relaxed, and something of the 
angel in the dwarfed child crept over their hard 
little faces. 


CHAPTER II. 


/^^UTSIDE it was raining steadily, a dark 
January sky spongy with its weight of 
clouds. There had been more than the usual 
friction, quarreling, and approach to open 
mutiny among the children of the Home. 
Patsy McQuee had called Sally Gloss “ a wuth- 
less little idjut,” and Sally had lost no time in 
retorting that Patsy was “ a little low-down 
nobuddy.” 

Patient, motherly little Tilly Maguire had 
tried to quiet them, being rewarded for her 
peace-seeking interference by having Dinah, a 
colored rag doll, thrown at her curly head. 

Sally was “a case.” An incorrigible mite 
with a temper which, it might seem, had gath- 
ered strength through generations of belliger- 
ent dispositions, culminating at last in this 
tempestuous child. Sister Margaret was tired 
of reporting, the matron tired of punishing her 


12 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


Patsy McQuee, a born tease, had spent 
lonely hours, aye, even days of disgusting 
seclusion in a small, remote room, in the effort 
made to break him of his tantalizing habit. 
But more than he loved his often longed-for 
bowl of oatmeal and treacle, even more than he 
enjoyed the luxury of mush, milk, and sugar, 
Patsy’s wicked little soul delighted in teasing 
fiery little Sally Gloss. 

Tilly Maguire, an undersized child of anxious 
mien, as some one once said, “ no bigger than a 
comma,” was forever trying to still the tumult 
in the play room. Sometimes she succeeded, 
more often she failed. She had been repeatedly 
invited, in no gentle accents and in less polite 
terms, to attend to her own personal concerns ; 
had been times innumerable converted into a 
target for the aiming of any toy nearest at 
hand, but even as the warhorse is said to scent 
the battle, so the child scented a disturbance, 
and instinctively threw her minute body at the 
front of the fray in the earnest hope-of some- 
how suggesting terms of peace. 

This dreary day of rain had dragged its slow 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 13 

length to the middle of the afternoon when 
Patsy McQuee and Sally Gloss had plunged 
into another “set to.” Compliments of the 
doubtfulest kind had been fiercely flung. Sally, 
panting with rage, was trying to think of some- 
thing “ wuss ” to call Patsy, and two or three 
side spats were in full progress when Little 
Jolliby glided into the room. 

At sight of vanquished Tillie Maguire 
crouching near the door, he said softly : 
“What’s the matter, Tilly.?” 

“Oh, dear me!” said Tilly, pointing with a 
hopeless look at Sally, “ I ’m all wared . out 
a-strivin’ with that chile.” 

Taking in the whole situation at a glance. 
Little Jolliby quietly crossed the room, seated 
himself in a small wooden armchair, — usually 
an inspiriting sign, — and during an instant’s 
cessation of hostilities asked in a low voice : 
“ Who wants to hear a story .? ” 

Astonishing transformation ! A stranger 
entering the spacious apartment would have 
questioned what spell had instantly bound the 
mixed group before him. Children a moment 


H 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


before waging unfriendly warfare cuddled close 
to each other, all else forgotten in the pleasure 
of crowding close to the little armchair. Then 
Tony Smithers, one of the larger boys, elbowed 
Corny Witts in his desire to secure a place 
near Little Jolliby, when for a moment more 
it savored of Greek meeting Greek, but Little 
Jolliby said in his clear undertone : — 

“ I don’t feel partic’lar strong to-day, an’ if you 
wants to hear a story, you must n’t squabble.” 

All quiet again as a smooth summer sea, as 
Little Jolliby began, always in true story-telling 
style : — 

Onct upon a time there was a little mis’ry 
of a boy that did n’t live to home but had to 
work to get his clo’es an’ wot he et. Most times 
he was good, an’ kep’ still when the folks he 
worked for was cross and would n’t be sat’sfied 
no matter wot he done to please ’em. 

“ One dretful hot day, Philly ’d been runnin’ 
errants till ’t was almost dark, then he run out in 
the twilight — that’s always the fairies’ best 
time, you know — an’ he throw’d ’imself on the 
cool grass under a great green apple tree. He 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 15 

felt all tore up, he was so hot an’ tired, and he 
begun wond’rin’ if there was ever goin’ to be 
bright, nice things for him, such as some boys 
had, when all to onct there was the most beaut’- 
fulest little objec’ right in the middle o’ that 
apple tree ! She was swingin’ on a twig, an’ 
her dress was all lace, an’ her face was white an’ 
dretful sweet. 

“ Then Philly looked an’ there in the sky was 
such a rainbow ! Pink an’ blue an’ yellow an’ 
green, all in stripes, an’ shinin’ away like ev’ry- 
thin’. An’ all in an’ out o’ the rainbow was 
the littlest specks o’ fairies there ever was. 
They had wings no bigger ’n a butterfly’s, an’ 
they danced on nothin’, an’ their yellow, goldy 
hair was like crowns all round their dear little 
faces. They did n’t look at Philly lyin’ there 
so still with his eyes shut under the green apple 
tree, but he could see they was watchin’ the 
lovely fairy in the tree, an’ then poor Philly 
saw the queen fairy was a-lookin’ right at him. 
It set him tremblin’, for her eyes was n’t like 
any eyes he ’d ever seen before. 

“ Onct when I went an errant, I see some 


1 6 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

splendid rings in a window where they had 
watches an’ chains to sell, an’ lots o’ gold 
things wot rich folks buys. An’ in some o’ the 
rings was queer stones, oh, elegant ! They 
was white to begin with, but after you looked a 
minute there was pink an’ red an* green sparks 
come flashin’ right out o’ ’em. Well, this fairy 
had eyes jus’ like those stones, an’ when she 
looked right into Philly’s eyes he could n’t look 
away, an’ he did n’t want to ; an’ he stopped 
tremblin’, an’ felt all comforty an’ forgot his hard 
work, an’ begun to wonder if such a little beauty 
bein’ did n’t have a musicky voice an’ if she 
would speak to him. And jus’ then the little 
angel says : ‘ Yes ; I knows all ’bout it, poor little 
Philly ! all ’bout the hard work, an’ all the long 
errants, an’ the tiredness way inside your little 
jacket where your heart ’s a-beatin’. But I ’ve 
got med’cine as is n’t bitter for little boys like 
you, an’ it helps ’em an’ makes the work run off 
easy an’ takes the achin’ clean out of ’em.’ 
Then she shook her fairy wand an’ cried : 
‘ Come, little Patience, go shake your fairy dew 
over Philly an’ help him to be like you.’ 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 17 

An’ one o’ the beaut’ful fairies, with eyes 
jus’ as blue as the sky, come an’ shook some 
little pink an’ gold shells over Philly, an’ there 
come wot felt like cool specks o’ dew all scented 
with flowers over his hot face. It made him 
feel better an’ stronger, an’ he begun a-won- 
d’ring again wot made ’im think ’t was so hard 
to live an’ act right, an’ he kinder felt some one 
cared for him — for him! poor little way-down 
Philly — a little servant an’ workin’ hard all day. 

“Then the fairy in the apple tree called 
again: ‘Come, little Forgive, take your fairy 
harp an’ go sing to Philly one o’ your sweet 
songs, an’ see how he ’ll want to forgive ev’ry- 
thin’ he oughter.’ An’ the rainbow swung in 
the sky, an’ down flew a cunnin’ little fairy 
with a harp full o’ the finest strings, an’ she 
sang an’ sang, an’ the tears run all over Philly’s 
face, but they was glad tears, an’ he felt in a 
hurry to forgive the folks he worked for, their 
bein’ cross an’ hard, an’ never thankin’ ’im 
when he almost run his little legs off. 

“ An’ then again the fairy called : ‘ Come, 
little Love, go throw your elfin sparks over this 


1 8 Little Jollity s Christmas. 

Philly boy, an’ let him taste the beaut’flest 
thing there ever was, an’ that ’s love ! ’ The 
rainbow threw out fresh streaks o’ red an’ pink 
an’ yellow an’ green, an’ a shinin’ creature 
come flyin’ along, an’ all the air grew full o’ 
roses an’ lilies an’ lilies an’ roses, an’ lots of 
other sweet country flowers, an’ she flew to an’ 
fro right over Philly’s head, an’ the rainbow 
sparks come droppin’, droppin’ like cool showers 
over his face an’ all aroun’, until he felt all 
covered over with love. An’ the angel in the 
apple tree cried : — 

“ ‘ Now you know there ’s some one loves an’ 
watches you, Philly, I can’t speak the Name 
’cause it ’s holy. But this Love is ev’rywheres, 
an’ all the boys an’ girls an’ little children are 
under its beaut’ful colors. It loves ’em forever 
’n’ ever, even when they ’re cross an’ naughty, 
but if they ’d only let them, all its little spirits. 
Patience and Forgive an’ all the rest, would 
come and help ’em. There ’s always lovely 
spirits in the air, Philly, an’ wot ’s more they 
reely wants to be the children’s frien’s, an’ 
they want to be the frien’s of ev’rybuddy.’ 


Little Jollity s Christmas. ]g 

“ Then all the fairy angels spread their little 
webby wings an’ faded into the air, an’ the 
rainbow got further an’ further an’ melted sof’ly 
away, an’ — Philly opened his eyes, 

“ Well, he tried an’ tried to remember wot 
he ’d seen an’ where he ’d been since he dropped 
asleep, but he could n’t, only he felt sure he ’d 
got all cool an’ rested, an’ it was still in his 
mind that some one had come an’ talked to him 
’bout lovin’ him. An’ he looked up in the 
apple tree as if he most ’spected to see a great 
kind friend there, but o’ course he did n’t. 
But he says to himself kinder dreamy like, 
‘ There ’s cert’nly been some one tryin’ to 
make me feel better, an’ I want to be -a reel 
good boy.’ ” 

Little Jolliby ceased speaking midst a still- 
ness so great that for a moment no one thought 
of breaking it. Then poor Sally Gloss, forever 
in mischief because of her hot temper, asked 
in a poor, pitiful little voice : — 

“I say, Little Jolliby, do you b’lieve there 
reely was ennybuddy come an’ give comfort to 
that boy } Was it reely Somebtiddy ? ” 


20 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


“No one he could see, Sally.” 

“ But Somebuddy as he could hear an’ feel ? ” 

“ Some One who lov^ed ’im an’ wanted to help 
’im, Sally.” 

“ Sakes ! I wish he ’d come an’ help me ! ” 
sighed Sally. 

“ ’T would take a’ army of ’em,” slyly put in 
Patsy McQuee. 

But Little Jolliby looked so troubled that 
teasing Patsy quickly repented for once and 
said, “ I won’t no more. Little Jolliby.” 

“ ’T ain’t no use my tellin’ stories if they 
don’t do any good,” Little Jolliby replied in his 
low voice ; but he added with a patient smile, 
“ I should n’t wonder if you wanted another 
story some day, so don’t tease, Patsy.” 

“ Oh, tell another now ! do, do ! ” rose from 
a chorus of voices ; but the little story-teller 
shook his head decidedly. He never told but 
one at a time, and usually had an exhausted air 
on finishing, so the children soon stopped en- 
treating him, knowing it was of no use, and 
went cheerfully to their play. Sister Margaret, 
entering a few moments later with her great 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 2I 

mending basket in hand, was relieved and 
pleased to find perfect harmony reigning 
throughout the wide, battered room. Sally 
Gloss was contentedly sewing a piece of white 
lace around the doll Dinah’s black neck, em- 
ploying a darning-needle with black stocking 
cotton in the process. Tilly Maguire aided by 
holding down the lace while Sally set the 
stitches. That they looked like crocodile’s 
teeth when set made no difference, so long as 
anything kept the turbulent child quiet. 

Yet Sister Margaret, regarding her, felt a gen- 
uine wave of pity go through her heart when 
she noticed the sad expression that was native 
to the childish face when it was not distorted 
by passion. 

“ Poor little thing ! ” she thought ; “ I believe 
there ’d be the making of a smart, good child 
in Sally if only she could have gentle, special 
care.” 


CHAPTER III. 


S winter glided away Little Jolliby found 



^ ample occasion for drawing on his ever 
ready imagination. Children of different 
parentage and widely differing dispositions, 
huddled in unfortunate contact in one room, 
would seldom dwell together peacefully. Rules 
and regulations were observed, discipline was 
exercised, yet far the strongest agency for good 
put forth in the playroom that winter came 
from the slight boy, whose dreams by day and 
by night furnished harmless material for his 
dearly enjoyed stories. 

In warm or pleasant weather both matron 
and children were eased by outdoor freedom 
and sport, but cold or stormy days the usually 
delicate children must be carefully housed, for 
cold and illness not only brought suffering, but 
increased not a little the cares of the already 
overtasked matron and her faithful ally. Sister 


22 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 23 

Margaret. Work of some kind was required of 
nearly all the inmates. Care of the bedrooms 
and other light tasks were imposed, and in the 
main the children were looked out for kindly 
and considerately. 

Another blustering, snowy day in March 
found the entire atmosphere of the playroom 
charged as with dangerous explosives. Sally 
Gloss’ eyes shot gleams of fire ; Patsy Mc- 
Quee’s face wore a sardonic grin ; Tilly Maguire, 
aged eight, carried in very truth at such times 
the “ wared out ” countenance of a person of 
a hundred. Tony Smithers eyed Corny Witts 
with a pent, smoldering, quiet, suggesting amus- 
ing recollection of the old warning, “ Beware 
the fury of a patient man.” The coming storm 
drove Little Jolliby to the small wooden arm- 
chair. 

“Coin’ to tell a story } ” shouted Kit Wollock, 
an unfortunate girl with the suspicion resting 
heavily upon her of having an unconquerable 
fondness for taking and hiding things not 
strictly her own. 

“ Yes ; I’m goin’ to tell ’bout the little green 


24 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

fairy,” said Little Jolliby, who never raised his 
voice above a certain pitch. He did not seem 
able to. The usual quiet and absorption pre- 
vailed as he began in the familiar words : — 

“ Onct upon a time there was a lovely green 
fairy that lived in a beaut’ful green forest. 
Her wings was green an’ fine as cobwebs, an’ 
her dress was made o’ the thinnest green, just 
as if a spider had spun that too. Her wand 
was like a teeny branch o’ green silk threads 
wove close together. Her little dress an’ 
sleeves stood out so you could see through ’em, 
and looked like some lacey ferns I saw in the 
country onct that I b’lieve they called ‘hair 
ferns.’ On her head was a crown o’ shinin’ 
green leaves all mixed with little green sparkles. 
Her voice was like a bird singin’, only she 
spoke words an’ birds don’t. Then wot made 
her all the prettier, she was all covered over 
with dewdrops, an’ with the moon shinin’ on 
her it was like as if she was all covered over 
with green and pale gold. 

“Now this little fairy lived in the forest, but 
she could peep out an’ all round, an’ see what 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 25 

the chirren was doin’. An’ when they was 
goin’ to do anythin’ naughty she ’d cry in her 
bird voice, ‘ Oh, don’t ! oh, don’t ! ’ An’ when 
the chil’ren was wonderin’ whether they ’d 
better do what was right, she ’d cry out loud 
and strong : ‘ Yes, do ! yes, do ! ’ 

“ Sometimes the chil’ren listened to her and 
did what was good an’ the little green fairy 
would sing in their hearts, but they did n’t 
know jus’ wot it was they heard or wot made 
them feel so glad. An’ then when the chil’ren 
was bad the little green fairy was all in pain an’ 
would make a little moan, an’ the chil’ren 
knew they had made pain somewheres else 
besides in their own seifs. But in the daytime 
they could n’t make out who it was that felt so 
bad. But when night come an’ the lights was 
all put out, an’ the chil’ren was fast asleep, the 
little green fairy would go to the good ones, an’ 
her sweet face an’ pretty dress an’ shinin’ 
crown would be full o’ light an’ sweet moon- 
beams, an’ she ’d tell the chil’ren how happy 
they made her an’ wot pleasure there was in 
fairyland when they did wot was right. Then 


26 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


she ’d invite them to her pretty green bower in 
the forest, an’ somehow they ’d fly with her in 
the soft moonlight to her bright, green home 
where everythin’ was so charmin’ an’ charmin’ 
the chil’ren would know it must be fairyland. 
Such sights as they ’d see there ! First the 
midges would come an’ dance, linkin’ their little 
arms an’ twinklin’ their fairy feet, flyin’ one 
above another, then chasin’ like fireflies through 
the grass an’ leaves. 

“Then the little green fairy would take the 
chil’ren to ride. She would lift her silky wand 
an’ jus’ strike a branch or twig an’ out of every 
flower that was bloomin’ all aroun’ would peep a 
fairy face. Pretty soon the flower fairies would 
come flyin’ out an’ weave a soft green chain. 
They ’d wind the gentle chain roun’ thechil’ren’s 
waists an’ away they ’d go, up, up, over the trees 
into the cool, sweet air, an’ under ’em would be 
the trees an’ bushes an’ flowers all shinin’ in 
the glit’ring moonlight. The goldy hair o’ the 
fairies would stream out like rays o’ sun specks, 
an’ on an’ on the chil’ren would fly until they 
heard the tap o’ the little green wand. 


27 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

“Then the flower fairies would come down 
again to the gleamin’ grass an’ there would be 
green tables spread with a fairy feast, an’ oh, 
what lovely food ! Little honey-dew cakes 
baked in the sun, an’ frosted all over with 
pink honeysuckle sugar ; dear little rosy cakes 
such as no one but the fairies can make; with 
sweet foam sprinkled over, made from lily cup 
cells ; elegant sweet drink was to be drank 
from fairy bells an’ was made o’ valley lily 
syrup an’ berry juice. Sugar sweets pressed 
out o’ night-bloomin’ flowers were on fresh 
green leaves, an’ shined like little rolls o’ 
crystal. 

“ When the chil’ren began the feast the little 
green fairy raised her wand — an’ the music! 
It was like flowers singin’. Ev’ry little while 
the chil’ren had to stop eatin’ an’ drinkin’ all 
those d’licious things, to listen to the fairy 
music. Never was there any such music 
before. An’ all at onct out come hummin’- 
birds an’ bits o’ song sparrows, an’ they twitted 
about an’ sung with the fairy harps. An’ they 
were so tame they let the chil’ren touch them 


28 Little Jollity s Christmas. 

an’ feel o’ their soft, soft feathers, an’ look right 
into their heavenly little eyes. 

It seemed all too sweet. An’ it was too 
sweet to last. An’ first the music sounded far 
off, next the lovely food was all eat up, then the 
darlin’ little fairies got farther an’ farther away ; 
the hummin’-birds an’ song sparrows flitted up 
into the moonlight, an’ the chil’ren opened 
their eyes. 

“ But when they waked up they forgot about 
the little green fairy, an’ only tried and tried 
to think wot could ’a’ been so perfectly beaut’ful 
an’ make them want dret’fly to go right to sleep 
again. Then while they was thinkin’ ’bout it, 
they ’d remember tryin’ to be good, an’ back 
into their minds would come somethin’ that 
made them sure Some One had been pleased, 
an’ had sent some charmin’ voices in their sleep 
to tell them so. 

“The naughty chil’ren would see the little 
green fairy, too ; but oh, dear ! how she would 
be changed ! Her poor little wings would be 
all droopy an’ sad. The crown on her head 
would look fadey, as like it was mournin’ ’bout 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 29 

somethin’. The great tears in her pretty eyes 
would make the naughty chil’ren want to cry. 
The little hummin’-birds would try to comfort 
her, but they could n’t, an’ neither the hummin’- 
birds nor song sparrows would sing a note. 
The sweet little midges kep’ close in their 
green cells, an’ the flower fairies would peep 
out, then draw back an’ cover their goldy heads 
with leaves. 

“The little green fairy would tell the naughty 
boys an’ girls ’bout the nice fairy feast she got 
ready for them ; but even if she lifted her silky 
wand no feast would appear for chil’ren that 
had n’t been good. Then the chil’ren would 
wish they had n’t been bad, for it made them 
sorry to see how troubled ev’rythin’ looked out- 
side o’ fairyland, an’ they wish ’t the little green 
fairy would scold an’ look cross, ’stead of bein’ 
so gentle an’ so sad. She had n’t done any- 
thin’ wrong, but she tole them that no one 
could do wrong without makin’ other people 
feel it in some way or other. 

“The chil’ren had to see how much they 
lost, for the fairies could n’t lend their wings 


30 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

only to good little people, an’ the moonlight 
was so dull they could n’t ’a’ seen where they 
was goin’. They were glad to wake up ; an’ 
soon as they did, they forgot all ’bout the little 
green fairy, only their hearts was sad an’ dretful 
heavy, an’ they knew there was Some One 
gentle an’ lovin’ that had been near an’ was full 
o’ sorrow ’cause they ’d been so bad. An’ they 
felt how good an’ kind the Bein’ was they ’d 
troubled, an’ it made ’em want to be good, too, 
and so it happened that the voice in their minds 
helped them so much they gave up naughty 
ways ; an’ another time the little green fairy 
came an’ her eyes was bright, an’ her voice full 
o’ music, an’ the chil’ren flew off with her to 
her green forest home and sat down to a 
beaut’ful fairy feast.” 

As Little Jolliby sat quietly back in the 
wooden chair, the children turned reluctantly 
away, knowing he was through for that day, but 
Kit Wollock stayed close beside him. Little 
Jolliby,” she said, “do you reely ’spec’ there’s 
some un’s, as you said onct before, that ’s ’roun’ 
us all the time an’ wants us to be good } ” 


Little Jolliby s Ch'istmas. 31 

“Yes, I think there is, Kit. They ain’t 
fairies ’xactly, but they ’re some kind o’ spirits, 
an’ though I can’t jus’ see ’em I can kinder 
feel ’em all the time.” 

“ Do you b’lieve there ’s a partic’lar One as 
sees when we does things awful bad ? Any one 
as cares ? ” 

“Cert’nly there is. Kit! That fairy story 
was ruther like one I read onct ; only the one I 
read was longer, and had some things in it that 
was painfler, so I did n’t like it in the painsome 
parts, an’ I altered it consid’rable. But the 
little green fairy must mean as there 's some 
one ’roun’ the boys an’ girls an’ the grown 
folks, too, as loves ’em all powerful strong, 
an’ wants ’em to do everythin’ right, an’ will 
help ’em if they ’ll only let him. Ain’t you 
never been to Sunday-school, Kit, nor to hear 
preachin ’ } ” 

“Ain’t never been anywheres but just to 
this here place an’ errants/’ grumbled Kit ; 
“ but — I ’ll tell you somethin’ ! Won’t you 
tell } ” 

“ I won’t ’nless I oughter. Kit.” 


32 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

“Well, you won’t, I know, ’cause you never 
does tell things ; but ” — she lowered her voice 
— “I did take that piece o’ blue ribbon Sister 
Margaret made such a fuss about, an’ I meant 
to keep it, but last night — somethin’ happen’d ! ” 

“ Wot was it. Kit ? You better tell me; ” and 
Little Jolliby spoke so encouragingly that Kit, 
who was older and much larger than he, went on : 

“ Well, first off, I could n’t get to sleep no 
way. I twisted an’ turned an’ hunched up my 
piller, an’ then the matron come in an’ tole me 
not to go on that way or I ’d get up an’ dress. 
So I kep’ quiet an’ the matron went away an’ 
it got all still an’ pitch dark, an’ all to onct I 
wisht I had n’t a-touched that ole ribbon. I 
got thinkin’ o’ that ’nother fairy story you tole 
with love in it, an’ I got hungry ’way in here, 
desprit hungry ! ” — Kit held her hand over the 
waist of her dress — “ an’ I thought if any- 
buddy loved me jus’ the leastest, little, tintiest 
bit I ’d try an’ be somethin’ like. An’ I felt so 
queer — you won’t laugh. Little Jolliby.?” 

“Me ! I would n’t laugh. Kit, no more ’n I ’d 
laugh in the minister’s face ! ” 


Little Jollity s Christmas. 33 

“ Well, I felt so queer like, I reely an’ truly 
a-most thought some beautiful thing named 
Love come an’ said : ‘ Be good. Kit, come, be 
good ! ’ an’ — an’ — I bu’st out cryin’.” 

“ It was love. Kit ! the best love there ever 
was. Way back o’ the beaut’ful fairies is the 
One who is all made up o’ love. I think he 
teached me ’bout the fairies to help me out. 
I don’t very often speak his name ’cause its 
dretful holy, an’ I’m such a poor mis’rable 
little feller, I always wants to speak it soft, but 
I ’ll tell you.” Little Jolliby only whispered 
the words, but midst the din of the playroom 
Kit caught it : “ It ’s Christ ! ” 

“ Him as they has Christmas for.^ ” she asked 
carelessly. 

“Yes ; he as wor born on Christmas.” 

“ But he ’s billions o’ miles off,” said Kit in 
a disappointed tone. “ Laws, yes, I ’ve heard 
tell o’ that One, but I did n’t never more than 
half b’lieve it. Do you think he ever notices 
us a bit } ” 

“Why, Kit! Kit!” said Little Jolliby, his 
great violet eyes filled with pity and pain while 


34 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


Kit wondered what could have touched him so : 
“He’s right here, Kit, in this room, and hears 
ev’ry word we say.” 

“ Honest } ” 

“Yes, honest; only He’s in heaven, too.” 
At that Kit stretched such wide, questioning 
eyes that Little Jolliby tried to explain, “ Why, 
there ain’t no miles, Kit, nor anythin’ like that 
a-tween Christ an’ us. An’ heaven is right 
alongside, too there ’s only jus’ a strange kind 
o’ wond’ful veil as hides it from our eyes long’s 
we stay in this worl’. The minister to the 
mission said onct as ’t was ‘ sacret,’ an’ I ask’d 
my Sunday-school teacher what did ‘ sacret ’ 
mean, an’ she said as it meant very, very holy.” 

“ Don’t it make you ’fraid } ” asked Kit, a 
little awe in her voice for the first time in her 
life. 

“’Fraid.? Why, Kit, I’m never ’fraid. 
When you onct b’lieves these things, there ain’t 
any ’fraid part ; you only jus’ thinks an’ dreams 
o’ the love.” 

“I great deal ruther hear you tell ’bout such 
things than that ole minister they has come 


Little Jolliby s Christmas, 35 

talk to us,” said Kit with an impatient sniff. 
“When he begins to drawl out,” Kit pinched 
her nose together and spoke with a slow, nasal 
twang, “ ‘Now — chil’ren — all — be — very 

— quiet — please,’ I ’d like to pinch my nose 
up on the spot an’ drag after ’im, ‘Now — you 

— mister — minister — be — very — quiet — 
please.* ” 

“Oh, you must n’t. Kit ! ” said Little Jolliby, 
smiling spite of himself. “ He means all right, 
an’ tries to do us good” — 

“Then why don’t he tell us bright things an’ 
stories, an’ talk somethin’ like } ” interrupted 
Kit. “ Most grown folks does n’t know how to 
talk to we un s an’ them as is our age. When 
Mr. Loring is talkin’ an’ keeps eyin’ me, I sits 
still ’cause I has to, but I keeps thinkin’ all the 
time, that first chance I gets I ’ll steal anythin’ 
I can lay my hands on. I hates to be preached 
at !” 

“ O Kit ! poor, naughty Kit ! ” said Little 
Jolliby’s low, pitying voice. “You’re a-hurtin’ 
o’ my Christ, an’ it hurts me ! ” 

“Well, I won’t no more,” said Kit, half 


36 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


repentantly, “ but wot can a poor girl do that ’s 
wicked an’ that likes bein’ wicked ? Tell me 
that, now ! ” 

“ Think o’ the good fairies. Kit, an’ remember 
that back o’ them is all that monstrous great 
Love, that wants to help ev’rybuddy, p’raps poor 
chil’ren in partic’lar. It helps me.” 

“Well, p’raps I’ll try,” rejoined Kit with 
indifference, as Sister Margaret called her to 
set the plates and mugs for supper. 


CHAPTER IV. 


S spring advanced and days grew warmer 



^ ^ the doors of the Home were thrown 
open and the occupants of the noisy playroom 
trooped gladsomely out for the keen enjoyment 
of outdoor fun. But later, with oncoming 
heat, Little Jolliby grew slighter, the violet of 
his eyes deepened, his little face grew more 
dreamy. 

Had his loving “mammy ” been there to see, 
she would have noted the change, but it was so 
gradual as to be scarcely perceptible to the 
busy matron and sister. They liked him cer- 
tainly best of all their youthful charges. 
Almost unconsciously little favors were 
extended him not shared by the others. No 
harsh or reproving words ever greeted his ears. 
He never deserved them. If either the matron 
or Sister Margaret could overhear his fairy tales, 
they were very willing to do so. The nature of 


37 


38 Little Jolliby s Christinas. 

them had changed of late. It is quite probable 
the little story teller failed to realize it, but 
they had taken on a more spiritual tone, having 
less direct application to the scenes and events 
of his surroundings. The children listened 
wonderingly, were more hushed afterward, 
quarreled less, sometimes lay thinking of them 
after going to their beds. 

On a warm, hazy afternoon in July, Little 
Jolliby sat leaning against a cherry tree close to 
the Home sitting room, and his companions, 
tired with heat and play, began teasing for one 
of the coveted stories. Little Jolliby agreed 
to gratify them if they in turn would promise 
not to talk after going to bed at night. They 
were not allowed to do that, but with no one at 
hand to hear and check them, a troublesome 
undertone of none too pleasant talk was fre- 
quently kept up. It annoyed Little Jolliby 
more than anything else in the world. 

He loved the darkness and quiet of night. 
With increasing weakness of body his imagina- 
tion seemed to strengthen, his waking dreams 
to become more intense. A great longing 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 39 

hitherto unfelt crept over him, and in his igno- 
rance and lack of any one to define his hunger of 
soul, he tried as best he could to analyze his 
own vague desires. 

“ I wonder can it be richness I want so bad } ” 
he one night asked himself when all but he 
were quietly sleeping. “ I wonder did I live in 
a big house as had lace fixin’s to the winders, 
an’ a big table with soup an’ fish an’ meat an’ 
candy, an’ milk like that in the country ev’ry 
day, would I be all sat’sfied ? Or I wonder, is 
it mammy I wants to have, an’ that keeps me 
sorter wishin’ an’ wishin’ all the time 

Then the child filled his fancy with pictures 
of feasts, trying to conjure up the manner in 
which dainty repasts might be served, such as 
after all he would have had small appetite for. 
Picnics with his mother for guide and com- 
panion, aided by the stories in his beloved fairy 
book, coursed through his mind, but none of 
these at all contented him. 

Gradually he became aware that nothing per- 
taining to his poor circumscribed little world, 
as he knew it, could ever begin to meet the 


40 Little Jolliby s Christinas. 

growing want in his eager soul. Then more 
and more he dreamed of things beyond his reach, 
beyond the reach of any finite existence. 
Sweet fancies of a higher fairyland began to 
fill his imagination. The chief of the fairies 
paled and dimmed before the rare vision of 
Life and Light that became the center of both 
sleeping and waking dreams. Yet somehow 
the sweet heaven of his new fancies still lay 
through a mystic fairyland. Such a land had 
been the first satisfying ideal of his strange 
little nature ; through its mazy, blissful realms 
now lay the fairer “ Beyond ” of his enraptured, 
ripening visions. 

Now as his mates again clamored for a story, 
promising perfect quiet at night. Little Jolliby, 
scarcely knowing how the story would unfold, 
yet never distrusting his expanding imagination, 
began in the old magic words : — 

“ Onct upon a time it was beaut’fler than 
ever in fairyland. It was in the twilight, an’ 
the fairies was dancin’ an’ singin’. An’ every- 
where, in the trees, the grass, the flowers, an’ 
the air, peeped little wings, an’ goldy locks, an’ 


Little Jollity s Christmas. 41 

eyes as bright as stars. The queen o’ the 
fairies was on a little throne made all o’ roses 
an’ lilies. Little cup fairies, as they was called, 
carried dew-fall drinks, an’ sunbeam cakes, an’ 
fed all the teeny flut’ring mites that come flyin’ 
up to them. 

“ There were silver white harps hangin’ from 
the bushes, an’ ev’ry little while there come a 
breath from somewheres that swep’ across the 
fine little strings, an’ there was music that 
never is heard ’cept in fairyland. An’ when 
the harps begun to play there were song fairies 
gathered up close an’ begun to sing. ’T was all 
sweet twilight, an’ music, an’ song, an’ happy 
sun-bright little faces. 

“ Then in some way there creeped into fairy- 
land a poor little child as never had had very 
good times. Its eyes was n’t very bright, 
’cause it did n’t have much that was bright to 
see, an’ its face was thin ’cause it was n’t fed 
like some chil’ren are. An’ its heart ached 
’cause no one loved it partic’lar well, — no 
one it know’d of, — an’ ’t was tired ’cause it 
had come a dret’ful long ways, an’ ’t was by 


42 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

mistake, it thought, that it had wandered into 
fairyland. 

“ But the child was there an’ was too s’prised 
an’ happy to want to go away. It laid down 
on a bed o’ thick green moss an’ was thinkin’ 
wot it should say if the fairies should see it 
there, an’ thinkin’ would they drive it away, 
when all to onct the fairy queen shook her 
wand an’ ’t was still everywhere in a minute. 
Then she said : ‘ Listen to me, little spirits ; 
there ’s a young stranger come to fairyland, a 
young stranger with its eyes an’ heart all full o’ 
wants. Go, little spirits, find out if you can 
wot ’t is the little wand’rer is wishin’ for, then 
come an’ bring me word.’ 

“ Everythin’ got so lovely right away, the child 
thought it must be in heaven. The gentle cup 
fairies carried it sweet drinks an’ pleasant food, 
an’ the child thought it would never be hungry 
again. It used to think if it could have all it 
wanted to eat, that happ’ness would come right 
straight off. But now it had feasted at the fairies’ 
table, yet still had a great want left in its heart. 
So the cup fairies went an’ told the queen. 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 43 

“Then she shook her wand again an’ the 
breath from somewheres set the silver white 
harps a-goin’, an’ the song fairies poured out 
their lovely songs an’ the air was full o’ music. 
The child thought again it must be in heaven ; 
but after hearing the prettiest songs the little 
fairies could sing there was still a great want 
lef’ in the poor little child. So they had to go 
an’ tell the queen. 

“ She held up her wand again an’ flocks o’ 
glancin’ midges danced on cobwebs. Splendid 
little birds o’ blue an’ gold twitted close, an’ let 
the child look into their lovely eyes. They 
sung to the patter o’ the midges’ feet, an’ ev’ry- 
thin’ in fairyland did its best to please the child. 
But still its heart wanted more. So the midges 
an’ the birds an’ the fairies had to go an’ tell 
the queen. 

“She stood up on her pretty throne, an’ it 
was still as still could be. ‘ My little spirits,’ 
she says, ‘ we can’t sats’fy this child that has 
come to fairyland. We have fed it, danced an’ 
sung for it. But hear me : there are things 
that fairies cannot do, until they meet the true 


44 Little Jotliby s Christmas. 

spirits sent on the errants we all know ’bout, 
an’ get them to help us.’ 

“ It grew so still that not the twinkiest thing 
stirred. In the air were lots o’ fairies that 
stopped flyin’ when the queen rose on her 
throne, an’ there they stayed, their wings all 
spread, the little winkety feet all quiet. The 
harps shined white an’ bright, but did n’t make 
a sound. Ev’rythin’ was list’nin’. Even the 
midges peepin’ out the flowers held their goldy 
heads stilled an’ listened. 

“ The queen’s voice was very soft an’ low as 
she says : ‘ I must find a little bird o’ paradise, 
an’ send a message to the Loveliest One.’ 
Then ev’ry fairy bent its sweet little head, an’ 
crossed its hands over its breast, an’ partly 
folded its shinin’ wings. 

“ Wot the child saw it never knew ; no place 
was seen, no person come, but the sky was like 
one great rose, an’ it grew all shiny ev’rywheres. 
Then from one speck o’ sky brightest of all, that 
seemed to open, something like a white angel 
flew right into the child’s heart, an’ it felt all to 
onct that if it spoke the white angel would answer. 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 45 

“ ‘ Where am I ? ’ says the child. 

“ ‘ Close by the kingdom o’ heaven,’ says the 
angel. 

“ ‘ But I can’t see it.’ 

“ ‘ No ; not until the Loveliest One opens 
your eyes.’ 

“ ‘ Who is the Loveliest One ’ 

“ ‘ The kind, sweet Spirit that watches the 
chil’ren an’ draws ’em an’ draws ’em until they 
love Him best of all.’ 

“‘But I can’t see him.’ 

“‘You do not need to, child; he is here all 
the same, though.’ 

“ ‘ But how does he know me ? I ’m little an’ 
poor an’ almost nobuddy in the great, great 
worl’.’ 

“‘Hark,’ says the angel. ‘The Loveliest 
One is the Christmas Child — Him as come to 
the worl’ on Christmas mornin’. He come to 
save the chil’ren an’ ev’ry one, an’ wants ev’ry- 
buddy to love him. Ev’rythin’ good an’ sweet 
in the worl’ comes from the Loveliest One. 
There is n’t a child in all the big, big worl’ so 
small or poor or lonesome but wot the Loveliest 


46 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 


One knows all ’bout it. He goes into all the 
rich folks’ houses, into the Homes for frien’less 
chil’ren, an’ into the small, dark places where 
people thinks no one sees ’em or cares any- 
thin’ ’bout ’em. He loves the chil’ren. 

“ ‘ Onct he blessed ’em right before some 
folks as would ’a’ sent ’em away. You thought 
’twas jus’ a mistake your gettin’ into fairyland 
to-day ; no, the Loveliest One draw’d you.’ 

^ Oh, dear ! I wish ’t I could see him ! ’ says 
the child. 

“ ' Not yet, dear child,’ says the angel. 

“ ‘Then I wish ’t I could hear his voice.’ 

“‘You do,’ says the angel. ‘I’m the voice 
of the Loveliest One.’ 

“First off, the child was frightened. Then 
it felt so glad an’ comf’ted it hugged its own 
teeny weeny little heart for joy. To think! it 
was n’t ’xactly a white angel, but the voice o’ 
the Loveliest One it was a-hearin’ ! 

“ ‘ Is this fairyland V says the child. 

“ ‘ Wot chil’ren calls fairyland,’ says the 
angel, ‘is sweet dreams an’ bright little imag- 
inin’s ; pictures as helps ’em get through hard 


Little Jollity s Christmas. 47 

days an’ fills ’em with happ’ness. Fairyland is 
a myst’ry like, an’ seems kinder like a shadder 
of a chil’ren’s heaven. There ’s nothin’ ever 
scares chil’ren in fairyland. There ’s never 
anythin’ naughty there. The flowers never has 
a drop o’ poison in ’em, an’ they ’re never fadey 
or dull. No bird or insec’ has a sting, an’ it ’s 
never too hot nor too cold. There ’s always 
music to hear an’ plenty to eat and to drink, 
an’ darlin’ little spirits are flyin’ aroun’ all full 
o’ love an’ help. The fairies are somethin’ like 
angels, ’cause they ’re always tryin’ to do some- 
thin’ to please an’ cheer the chil’ren, only they 
stays in fairyland, but the angels of heaven 
goes ev’rywhere.’ 

“ ‘ Do they reely ? ’ says the child. 

“ ‘ For certain,’ says the angel. ^They goes 
on errants for the Loveliest One into the worl’, 
an’ they love to do his biddin’. They flies into 
sick rooms an’ puts poor little ailin’ chil’ren 
asleep. Then they think they ’re all well. 
Roun’ comes the fairies an’ strikes their harps 
an’ sings an’ coo an’ fill their dreams. In fairy 
coaches they takes the sick chil’ren out ridin’ 


48 Little' Jolliby s Christmas. 

on the country roads, an’ they feeds ’em an’ 
gives ’em coolin’ drink. The angels comfort 
the naughty children too, ’cause the Loveliest 
One does n’t b’lieve in makin’ chil’ren terrible 
unhappy, no matter \vot they does. He coaxes 
’em and tries to make ’em better. When chil- 
’ren gets a-thinkin’ at night o’ wot they been 
a-doin’ in the daytime as was n’t right, an’ when 
they begins a-wishin’ an’ a-wishin’ they had n’t 
got so cross an’ had n’t called bad names, and 
had n’t throw’d things ’bout, that ’s the Loveliest 
One’s little angel a-tryin’ to show ’em wot ’s 
right, an’ speakin’ with the voice o’ the Loveliest 
One way inside ’em. 

“‘An’ the angels o’ the Loveliest One goes 
into grown-up people’s hearts an’ talks to them 
too. Sometimes they goes to the rich folks. 
Onct in a while some one as has lots o’ apples 
sends ’em to a Home for Frien’less Chil’ren. 
An’ sometimes there goes a basket o’ straw- 
b’ries into the Home. Oh, how lovely they 
taste ! That ’s ’cause a little white angel o’ the 
Loveliest One goes like the Loveliest One’s 
voice into some rich lady’s heart an’ whispers 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 49 

how poor chirren likes apples and strawb’ries 
jus’ as well as the rich folks does. The angels 
makes some people do things they ’d never 
think of unless the Loveliest One sent ’em. 
That ’s how some new, clean, little beds come 
to go to a chil’ren’s home one day. An angel 
tole a rich man that soft beds felt jus’ as nice 
an’ comforty to poor chil’ren as they did to 
anybuddy else.’ 

“ The angel waited a minute, then it says : 
‘It ’s true, jus’ as true as it can be, ’bout the 
Loveliest One an’ his white angels. An’ nights 
when it ’s dark an’ still, if chil’ren listen, the 
first thing they know there ’ll come somethin’ 
they won’t quite understan’, but it makes them 
feel quiet an’ good, an’ kinder whispers ’bout 
heaven an’ sweet things, an’ it ’s reely a little 
white angel bringin’ the voice o’ the Loveliest 
One, so ’s they can hear.’ 

“ Then the child opened its eyes, an’ it felt 
sat’sfied.” 

“ How long has the little fellow been here, 
and where could he have got his ideas ” asked 


50 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

the trustee. He had called at the Home just 
as Little Jolliby was about to begin his story, 
and the matron, whom he found sitting by the 
screened but open window, had asked if he 
would like to hear a little boy about eight years 
old tell a fairy story. Half sportively, half 
wearily, the trustee sat down to listen, but not 
to hear the kind of story he had expected. 

Only with the utmost unwillingness had the 
hurried business man been prevailed on to 
assume partial oversight of the commonplace 
institution for a year. What at last induced 
him to consent was to him a mystery. Now he 
began to think he understood. To his ques- 
tions the matron replied that the boy had been 
in the Home nearly two years ; as to whence 
came his ideas she could not tell. “Flesh and 
blood never revealed them to him, I believe,” 
she added. 

The trustee did not linger long enough to 
see Little Jolliby, but he had become possessed 
of a vague recognition of the fact that angels 
might be afloat and very near, taking cogni- 
zance of the ministrations rendered either 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 51 

willingly or unwillingly to the children of the 
poor. All unknown to himself Little Jolliby 
had planted impressions which brought more 
than one full hamper of nourishing cereals and 
nice vegetables to the Home before summer 
had departed and the snow again flew in 
the air. 


CHAPTER V. 

HEN winter had fairly come and those 



mysterious whispers of cheer and 


charm which pervade the very air were borne 
into the rooms of the Children’s Home, Little 
Jolliby felt his whole nature arise to greet with 
spontaneous welcome the suggestive spirit of 
the time. When the children were taken out for 
a walk or sent on errands, even they caught and 
were impressed by the festive hints of coming 
holidays with their central anniversary full of 
smiles, gifts, jollity, and abounding good will. 

Sally Gloss was on her good behavior, and 
so anxious to be sent errands she resolutely 
turned her back at Patsy McQuee’s most aggra- 
vating faces. The children vied with each 
other in their desire to obtain as frequent peeps 
at the store windows as possible. On rainy 
days Little Jolliby’s mind was swift and weird 
in creating new and inspiriting imagery. Even 


52 


53 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

fairy feet and wings might nearly have tired 
from the multitudinous errands on which they 
were sent. 

But as the Christ day drew near Little Jolliby’s 
stories impressed the children as never before. 
They held a mixed bewitchment teeming with 
all kinds of fairy sweets and fascination, yet 
constantly mingled with sunlit peeps at a still 
fairer “land,” and radiant glimpses of the 
“ Loveliest One.” The ethereal breezes of 
fairyland were fast merging into the spiritual 
blithesomeness of heaven. 

Christmas week dawned clear, cold, and 
jubilant. The trustee, in whose mind was an 
unforgotten story of the mission of the angels, 
encouraged the matron in throwing out delight- 
some innuendoes of lavish sweets and pretty 
gifts that should deck a wonderful tree on 
Christmas eve, and expectation could go no 
farther. The trustee went himself from store 
to store in search of a thick volume of illus- 
trated Bible stories, a gift for Little Jolliby. 

All kinds of surmises grew apace as tp the 
kind of fruit the promised wonderful tree was 


54 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

to bear. They gleaned the facts of lighted 
candles, burdened boughs, tinsel ornaments, 
and the gratified children were themselves 
allowed to string the long festoons of popcorn 
to be used. It was strange and pitiable that 
quantities of the fluffy corn slipped surrepti- 
tiously into Kit Wollock’s guilty pocket. Pre- 
tending to stoop over the better to see to 
thread her needle, the child would secrete a 
handful at a tirrie. Once as she was whisking 
a liberal supply into the accommodating pocket 
she caught the violet eyes of Little Jolliby 
regarding her with mute reproach. Instantly 
the corn was scattered into her lap, and she 
Stole no more. 

For a few days past Little Jolliby had ap- 
peared unable to please the children with a 
single story. He said it hurt hiS chest to talk. 
The matron ihd Sister Margaret, overborne 
with added diities arid the extra preparations bh 
hand, ivere yet partial ly observant of a grdWfng 
change dboiit the boy they Were trio busy to 
defiiie. It Was quite as mucL in ‘ manner as in 
Iboks. 


Little Jollity s Christmas. 55 

“ Don’t you think Little Jolliby is feeling the 
cold weather a good deal ? ” Sister Margaret at 
length asked as she was assisting the matron in 
making candy bags. 

“Yes, I’m afraid he is,” was the reply. 
“Suppose we put him in the spare room till 
after Christmas, or until he seems stronger ; it 
is much warmer than the large sleeping room. 
The little fellow must enjoy all he can just 
now. He certainly deserves to.” 

The “spare room,” more such in name than 
anything else, was a comfortable, well-warmed 
place usually occupied by “ transients,” but as 
it happened fortunately now to be vacant, Little 
Jolliby was given what to him was one of the 
greatest of luxuries — a room by himself. 

Midst the Wild niifth hnd uncbbcked glee df 
Christmans eve Little -Jolliby sat a little apart 
from his ‘hrefry corrifades, a smile of edntdht- 
nrerit on his face, but speaking Scarcely a word. 
The Ghrisf ‘mas tree had yielded forth its 'wealth 
of gifts, cbnfhctidhs, ahd hdnefactidns, hhd o\^er 
and again thedhildreh had shouted Idiidly, “-It’s 
fairy *Liltfe ^Joll iby ! it ’s fairy eve ! ’ ’ 'Arid 


56 Little Jollity s Christinas. 

hugging close to his breast the precious gift of 
pictured stories from the one great Book of all, 
Little Jolliby would smile back at them and 
nod assent. 

Festive it was, and Christly too. Ah, how 
Christly ! thus to please the Master’s own little 
ones. The candles burned bravely, lighting 
like diamonds the squares and rounds of glitter- 
ing tinsel dangling from the rifled tree. Bags 
of candy were held caressingly in hands unac- 
customed to so generous a supply. The various 
gifts were disposed in corners and under chairs, 
each child acutely remembering which cubby 
contained its special treasure. Oranges and 
apples abounded. 

Two years before Little Jolliby had taken 
part at a Christmas festival with its alluring 
tree at the mission chapel, and the scene had 
remained fixed in his mind. For some reason 
he had never spoken, of it. Whether with his 
fine perceptions he realized it might awaken 
longings not to be satisfied in the Home — for 
they had not had a Christmas tree there before 
— or whether it had been almost hallowed to 


Little Jolliby s Christinas. 57 

his memory, cannot be known, but to-night he 
rejoiced with great yet quiet joy that his little 
mates were permitted the same rare scene. 

As the excitement spent itself and the chil- 
dren grew calmer they surrounded Little Jolliby, 
begging that their happiness might become 
complete through the crowning delight of a 
Christmas story. 

The boy’s eyes grew wistful as if from strong 
desire to gratify them, and also as if inspired 
with something he would like to tell. “You ’ll 
have to be very quiet,” he said. 

Needless caution. “ Why, we ’re always still 
soon ’s you begin,” said Patsy McQuee, giving a 
final distracting sweep along his new harmonica. 

Little Jolliby began with considerable effort, 
which grew less as the story progressed, until 
it seemed as though the words poured forth of 
themselves and scarcely with volition on his 
part. He was glad the plea had been for a 
“Christmas story;” the first time he had ever 
instinctively preferred to give the fairies but a 
small place in what he had to say. He began 
midst stimulating quiet and attention: — 


58 


Little Jolliby s Cbristfnas. 


“ Onct upon a time, in a place way, way off 
where the days an’ nights are warmer than they 
are here, a lot o’ men was sittin’ out doors on 
the grass watchin’ the sheep an’ lambs as they 
was fast asleep. ’T was lovely an’ still, for it 
was night. The stars was shinin’ away, an’ the 
flowers was dreamin’, an’ it was all cool an’ 
hush-a-by, when all to onct there come a great, 
great star an’ lighted up ev’rythin’ aroun’. An’ 
where do you think it stopped an’ begun lookin’ 
down Why, right over a stable! ’T was n’t 
a big, high house with flower pots to the winders 
between bangin’ lace ; nor a church with a beau- 
t’ful organ to one end an’ a pulpit to the other. 
But ’t was over a stable I 

“ An’ wot do \you think was in the stable.^ 
It was a cunnin’ little, teeny weeny baby with 
cheeks like the velvet on Sister Margaret’s 
sleeve. I rubbed my hand over it one day nn’ 
I never forgot how soft that 'velvet was. jI 
never felt anythin’ softer ’cept jus’ one thing : 
that ^ was rose : leaves. .An ’"the little dear baby 
hands was jus’ like rose leaves, ^o small an’ 
soft. An’ who do you think the baby was’.? ” 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 59 

Little Jolliby lowered his always subdued 
voice and only murmured the sacred name. 
“ It was Christ ; the dear, dear little Christ. 
An’ it was such a beauty, beauty thing to have 
Him come a dear little baby, that the stars 
sang ! Only think ! Wot music that must ’a’ 
been ! An’ little angels with white wings was 
flyin’ here an’ flyin’ there, an’ pretty soon the 
mess’ges went ev’rywheres, an’ men as knew 
almost ev’rythin’ come an’ give that little 
totty mitens all kinds o’ presents. They give 
him gold, an’ things my Sunday-school teacher 
said smelt so good that it was always sweet 
wherever a drop was spilt. 

“ I don’t believe but wot the fairies was born 
that night ; wot we calls fairies ; ’cause ever 
since then there ’s been bright stories ’bout 
beaut’ful little angels in the air ; an’ there ’s 
been sweet things said ’bout chil’ren ; an’ I 
seen a picture o’ the — Christ — baby onct, 
an’ there were lots o’ little fairy angels flyin’ 
roun’ his head, an’ there was a light close 
over his hair, like a shinin’ ring, an’ flowers 
was droppin’ through the air, an’ the light 


6o Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

was pink an’ soft an’ beaut’ful ; all kinder like 
fairy twilight. 

“ My Sunday-school teacher told me a good 
deal more, an’ I can’t always remember some o’ 
the things, but when the baby grow’d up, folks 
was n’t kind to him, an’ did n’t treat him fair. 
But he was jus’ as kind. He went aroun’ 
where the sick folks was in bed an’ made ’em 
all well again. An’ he went where there was 
blind men, an’ he made them see, jus’ as plain ! 
An’ onct he went where a little girl was dead.” 

The voice of the little story-teller grew so 
low that the matron and Sister Margaret, 
sitting just out of sight, could never have 
heard it but for the profound stillness in the 
room. 

“ He went up to the little girl, an’ took hold 
o’ her hand an’ said, ‘ Little maid, arise ! ’ an’ 
she woke up ! Think of it ! When — Christ 
— said ‘ Wake up ! ’ she waked up ! 

“Then after a long time — Christ — went 
back into heaven, ’cause that was his reely 
truly home, an’ ever since then he ’s been ‘the 
Loveliest One.’ An’ the night he corned to 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 6i 

earth was Christmas night, the same as to-night, 
an’ I think He comes a great deal nearer ’n 
ever to-night. I kinder feel him. But he 
ain’t gone fur. His home ’s close by. An’ 
there ’s crowds an’ crowds o’ fairy angels as 
waits on him, an’ I think does his errants. I ’ll 
tell you somethin’ else. 

“ The other night I had a dream, just as clear. 
I could n’t get asleep for ever ’n ever so long. 
I kep’ coughin’, an’ somethin’ hurt me dretful 
inside when I coughed. Then Sister Margaret 
brought me some nice hot lemon drink an’ I 
stopped, an’ all on a suddint I thought I seen a 
little boy asleep. He did n’t have any mammy, 
an’ he did n’t know where his reel home was. 
He was poor an’ tired an’ — queer. 

‘‘ Pretty soon things grow’d splendid. The 
light got all soft an’ rosy. There was n’t any 
sun, an’ there was n’t any moon ; ’t was like 
when the sun had jus’ gone down an’ the moon 
hadn’t come, an’ there wasn’t any need o’ the 
sun or moon, for the light was perfec’. Then 
there come a troop o’ the littlest fairies. Their 
wings was white an’ their harps was white, an’ 


62 Little Jolliby' s Christmas. 

their hair was soft an’ light an’ went out in 
little rings all ’round their heads, an’ I could 
hear them sing. But I ’ve forgot how it 
sounded. We can’t hear when we ’re ’wake the 
things we hears when we ’re ’sleep. 

“ But after the little fairies come some larger 
ones, an’ their faces was so beaut’ful I could n’t 
look away from ’em at first. But they kep’ 
cornin’ an’ cornin’, troops an’ troops o’ fairies. 
An’ I thought, Where was their wands } Then 
I looked an’ they was n’t like any other fairies 
I ever seen. An’ the place where they come 
from was shinin’ — so shinin’ I had to put my 
hand up, it dazzled so. An’ still they kep’ 
cornin’, an’ the boy sleepin’ on, an’ I wondered, 
did he know they was gettin’ all aroun’ him } 
Then flowers come droppin’ out the bright 
place, an’ they come failin’ sof’ly — sof’ly — 
sof’ly, ’till the child was in a bed of heavenly 
roses. 

‘‘Then I heard voices an’ songs, an’ I dreamt 
the voice o’ the Loveliest One says : ‘ Bring 
him home gently, gently ; ’ an’ three o’ the 
beaut’flest, strong angels lifted the tired little 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 63 

boy more gentler than his mammy could, lifted 
him in their arms, an’ he saw them, for his eyes 
had opened now. An’ as the angels took him 
up his face was changed. 

“ I ’m too small to ’splain how ’t was changed, 
but it was in like a twinklin’ that his face was 
like the angels’. The tired look was gone, an’ 
the ‘ queer ’ had all faded ’way, yet ’t was the 
same face as he had before ; I ’d ’a’ know’d him 
anywheres. But, oh, he was beauty bright — 
beauty bright — all angel bright ! 

“An’ the angels flew swif’ly, sof’ly — sof’ly, 
swif’ly, an’ there come a great rush o’ rosy 
light, an’ a path I could only see the beginnin’ 
of ; there was a great burst o’ music, an’ the 
child was gone. 

“ Then the stranges’ part o’ my dream was 
that there lay the little boy still asleep, but he 
did n’t breathe any more, an’ it was only the 
tired part of him was lef’. But he'd gone to 
the Loveliest One, for — I see him go ! 

“An’ I don’t think there’s any dyin’ we 
know anythin’ ’bout. I think all to onct the 
angels comes from the Loveliest One, an’ he 


64 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

comes part way himself an’ takes the chil’ren 
right into the shine. An’ that little girl they 
called ‘dead’ was jus’ waiting for the Loveliest 
One to come an’ say ‘ Wake up ! ’ to open her 
eyes an’ be all alive. An’ some day when chil- 
’ren goes to sleep an’ don’t wake up as we can 
see, the strong angels has come an’ taken them, 
taken wot ’s reely them, into the shinin’ an’ 
the singin’ an’ the home o’ the Loveliest One. 

“ ’T ain’t no great ways. It ’s jus’ a pleasant, 
easy fly through the rosy light, with flowers 
an’ songs an’ angels ev’rywheres. The angels 
leaves wot looks like us, but we are all alive an’ 
beauty bright. It ’s all beauty bright. Jus' 
droppin’ asleep an’ seein’ white wings an’ 
sweety flowers, an’ bearin’ the voice o’ the 
Loveliest One saying, ‘ Wake up, little child ! ’ 
an’ you opens your eyes an’ sees the shinin’ 
path, an’ rests in the arms o’ the strong angels. 
Then comes the Loveliest One — I guess I’ll 
go to bed now. Good-night. We ’ll have a 
happy Chris’mas.” 

Little Jolliby turned wearily toward the door 
as Sister Margaret met him with a lighted 


Little Jolliby s Christmas, 


65 


candle. The child, still hugging his dear Bible 
stories, smiled and said again, “ Good-night ; 
we’ll have a happy Chris’mas.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


HOUTS of “ Merry Christmas ! ” had rung 



^ through the house. The nice breakfast 
of milk toast, pancakes and syrup was nearly 
finished, and the promptest member of the 
youthful family had not yet come down. 

“ I ’m going to see where Little Jolliby 
is,” said the matron, rising and leaving thE 
room. 

She was gone so long Sister Margaret started 
to find her, and they met in the hall. At a look 
in the matron’s eyes Sister Margaret said 
sharply, What is it ? where is he } ” 

“ In heaven,” said the matron, looking steadily 
beyond Sister Margaret. “The Loveliest One 
sent the strong angels for him in his sleep.” 

To the children the matron said simply that 
Little Jolliby had gone to sleep very tired on 
Christmas eve and would not join them through 
the day. 

“ We better be quiet, had n’t we } ” asked 


66 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 67 

Patsy McQuee, making a motion to pocket his 
terrible harmonica. 

But the matron replied ; “ No, Patsy, it ’s 
Christmas Day ; Little Jolliby always wants you 
to have all the sport you can. You won’t dis- 
turb him.” 

The next morning the children were told what 
had come to pass. And it was a strange group 
that gathered in the spare room. The only 
kind of service the matron and Sister Margaret 
deemed fitting was about to take place. 

On the comfortable bed he had so enjoyed 
lay the wa.xen figure of Little Jolliby — asleep. 
But how changed ! No signs of deformity were 
visible. The child lay with his head high on 
the white pillows, his little back sunken in their 
soft depths. A rose or two lay against his pure 
cheeks. A rose, a lily, and a few other flowers 
were held loosely in his little hands ; sprays of 
smilax and a trailing vine lay along the neat 
coverlet. Every vestige of pain and weariness 
had gone from his “ beauty bright ” face ; the 
look of a sleeping angel had settled over it, and 
the violet eyes were closed. 


68 Little Jollity s Christmas. 

Sally Gloss sat on the foot of the bed at one 
side, Kit Wollock on the other ; Tilly Maguire 
knelt near the motionless hands, unconscious 
that her own hands were clasped on the bed as 
if she were in the act of prayer. Patsy Mc- 
Quee, Tony Smithers, and Corny Witts stood 
close against the footboard. A few other chil- 
dren stood or sat about. All were facing the 
quiet little figure, gazing and gazing at the 
mystery of his sleep. 

Sister Margaret had talked long and earnestly 
with Mr. Loring, and as the minister entered 
the room looking kindly, smilingly around. Kit 
Wollock, her unfriendly aversion to the good 
man at once arising in defiance, could scarcely 
believe her ears when he began speaking. 

“ Is n’t it beautiful, my little friends ! ” he 
said in an easy, fatherly way, “ is n’t it very 
beautiful that dear Little Jolliby should go 
home to ‘the Loveliest One’ on Christmas 
day } What a day for our precious little 
boy ! ‘ A happy Christmas ’ ; just what he 

said all would have.” ’ 

He recalled portions of the fairy-angel story 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 69 

of Christmas eve. He reminded them how 
Little Jolliby had said he did n’t believe there 
was any dying they knew of ; there was only a 
falling asleep to be awakened by ‘ the Love- 
liest One.’ He urged them in the kindest, 
simplest manner to be good ; to do all they 
could to make the angels love to hover about 
them. Little Jolliby had helped make the 
days pleasant for them, telling the stories they 
liked to hear. 

Mr. Loring assured the children that he should 
remember about those stories when he talked 
to them in the future, because he had learned 
what a great delight it had been to listen to 
this little angel child. 

Above all they must love and try to please 
“the Loveliest One” — a new, sweet name, he 
said, for the blessed Christ, the children’s 
Friend, that he should not forget. If they had 
done wrong, they must look on that dear, quiet 
little face before them and beg “the Loveliest 
One ” to forgive them. 

Kit Wollock’s apron flew over her face, and 
for the first time Sally Gloss burst into childish 


70 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

grief. Patsy McQuee scowled terribly in an 
effort not to shed tears, but Tony Smithers 
drew his sleeve without a thought of shame 
across his eyes, while Corny Witts choked 
audibly. Tilly Maguire put her little face down 
on the counterpane and sobbed quietly. 

The minister’s hand went gently over Kit 
Wollock’s frowzy head as he dwelt tenderly, 
cheerily upon the beautiful way in which Little 
Jolliby described how a poor, tired little boy 
had gone up the shining path to where sounded 
the voice of “ the Loveliest One.” It was a 
dear dream of the strong angels who were even 
then on their way to bear Little Jolliby himself 
into the rosy light. A short prayer ended the 
bright little service. 

The rest c the day the children were allowed 
to go when they willed and look upon Little 
Jolliby asleep amid the flowers. 

“ I wish ’t he ’d wake up right here ! ” said 
Kit Wollock with passionate emphasis. 
“There’s things I wants to tell ’im.” 

“ I don’t,” said Tilly Maguire in the old, 
motherly way. “ He don’t look tired any more, 


Little Jolliby s Christmas. 71 

an’ he was all tired out. He won’t never be 
tired any more, an’ I ’m glad for the chile.” 

“I wish ’t the fairy angels would come for 
me,” said Sally Gloss. “ I aches awful to see 
‘the Loveliest One,’ an’ it’s hard not gettin’ 
mad. I wish ’t it warn’t so hard.” 

“ I won’t tease you again, Sally — never ! ” 
promised Patsy McQuee from his station at 
the foot of the bed — a compact he struggled 
right manfully to keep. 

At sundown Tilly Maguire crept up to the 
matron, and with a half-scared little face told 
her that Kit Wollock wanted to see her up 
stairs in the large sleeping-room, and was 
“takin’ on awful.” 

The matron went quickly to the room, where 
for a moment she was puzzled ^fo know the 
meaning of the scene before her. 

“ There, take ’em ! ” cried Kit, stamping her 
foot and sobbing violently take ’em’ ev’ry 
one, an’ send me to jail if you wants to, the 
quicker the better ! I ruther die ’n’ look at 
him again while I has this trash a-pickin’ at 
ev’ry corner o’ my soul ! ” 


72 Little Jolliby s Christmas. 

On the floor were various bits of ribbon, 
some pieces of lace, a handful of the tinsel 
squares and rounds from the Christmas tree, 
and a few other small things that had mysteri- 
ously disappeared during the winter. 

“ Kit, my poor child, let us go to the spare 
room and have a little talk,” said the matron, 
kindly leading her away. 

Later the children went for another look at 
Little Jolliby asleep on the white pillows, the 
roses against his cheek and in his fingers. One 
patted his face, another smoothed his little 
hands ; Kit Wollock, Sally Gloss, and Tilly 
Maguire kissed him. Then they went away and 
always remembered him asleep amid the flowers. 

In the morning the spare room door stood 
open ; the little sleeper gone. Strangely enough 
not a child asked a question. Only as the little 
girls peeped into the spare room on the way to 
breakfast, Tilly Maguire whispered : — 

“ ‘ The Loveliest One ’ has come and said 
‘ Wake up ! ' ” and Kit Wollock and Sally Gloss 
nodded their heads. 

O child, child, misshapen, small, and plain. 


Little JolUhy's Christmas, 73 

what angel shapeliness of form clothes now 
your always radiant spirit ! In heaven your 
glorified body bears semblance to what you 
were on earth ; your luminous eyes of violet 
tint are the same — yet not the same. But 
with the Christ of your dreams, the central 
light and charm of all your celestial picturings, 
you are now awake. And sweeter far than 
mystic fairy realms, with their delightsome 
reveling of summer fays, is your own fair, 
shining home, “ where angels walk and seraphs 
are the wardens.” 








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